


A Conversation Before Christmas

by FH14



Series: Andy's Festive Winter Holiday Stories [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Midnight City, Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Christmas, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-07 00:38:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3154292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FH14/pseuds/FH14
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the night before Christmas, 17 year old Rose Lalonde discovers a portal to another world, which leads her to a mysterious man who tells her about worlds beyond her imagination, and about the complicated relationship they apparently share.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Conversation Before Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> This is only my second time writing Homestuck, and my first writing the characters featured here. So I apologize in advance if anything seems out of character. There is a throwaway line that is a vague allusion to my first Homestuck fic, [Midnight City Madness](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2481179), but it will have no bearing on your ability to understand this story.
> 
> Thank you so much to my awesome beta [friggingodess](http://danielgirl15.tumblr.com/) for going above and beyond and making this actually readable. This fic was originally supposed to be released around Christmas but I got busy and couldn't finish it until now.

_'Twas the night before Christmas / when all through the house / not a creature was stirring, / not even a mouse._

The verse was one that Rose, like many others, had become familiar with. Through each successive Christmas, her mother had done her part to cement the story deep into her memory.

It drew upon a sense of nostalgia that seemed false, at least to Rose's sensibilities. She never had a Christmas where the entire house was decorated in the elaborate fashion that storybooks depicted. For the first few years of her life, Rose remembered politely ignoring the sickly-looking trees that sat in the living room, giving the last month of their life in a feeble attempt to make the season merrier. Rose thought such a display would have been more suited for Halloween, but who was she to question such a deeply rooted tradition?

It was when Rose was eight that her mother bought a fake tree, putting an end to the parade of dead trees, buried with proper funeral processions in the backyard and brightening up the house in a way Rose had never seen. Sure, the plastic tree was still largely unimpressive, but it was nice enough that Rose started to understand more of the Christmas aesthetic. That, and she got a wizard-themed ornament as a gift that year, which further endeared the new tree to her.

But still, such valiant displays of Christmas spirit never tapped into that sense of merriment that the Grinch surely felt when his heart grew three sizes. Which might be for the best, as cardiomegaly sounded extremely unpleasant.

So it was tonight, on the Christmas eve of her seventeenth year, that she found herself lying awake, wondering what the true meaning of Christmas was. Is it a time of year for family to come together and love and laugh? Not likely. Was it to celebrate the birthday of baby Jesus? Nah, he was born in the spring. Was it a 50% off sale on dashing wizard cosplay? Yes.

The matter apparently settled, Rose rolled over, desperately trying to get some sleep. Only it never seemed to come.

The old grandfather clock downstairs chimed and Rose counted eleven bells. It was still early, but it felt like she had been lying there for ages. The more she thought about sleeping, the more her mind wandered.  
  
She thought about her family, going through the same motions every year. Her mother was probably downstairs, finishing off the bottle of wine she'd been saving all year, before clumsily placing the presents under the tree and passing out on the couch. Jaspers was likely in some dark, secluded area of the house, stalking mice to make sure they stayed silent.

She thought about her friends, all celebrating Christmas in their own uniquely bizarre ways. John was likely having a similar battle of wits with his own father, albeit one laced with more physical comedy. Dave was probably buried under a pile of those vaguely erotic plush toys his brother collected, defeated in some kind of bizarre combat. Jade was almost definitely asleep, awaiting whatever gruesome surprise her dog had brought her for sustenance at Christmas dinner.

And then there was Rose herself, lying awake and overthinking everything. As per tradition.

Her restless mind unwinding, Rose felt the lull of sleep overtake her.

Her dreams were filled with sugarplums, armed to the teeth and out for blood. As humanity's last hope, Rose fought to protect the vestiges of knowledge that millennia of human civilization had cultivated.

She was about to execute their queen in a brutal coup d'état when a sound woke her from her slumber.

It was like the chime of the grandfather clock, but it was deeper - more foreboding. The clock on her nightstand read midnight. She had only been asleep for an hour.

She was extremely agitated that her slumber was cut off so suddenly. She vowed to find the source of the noise and put an end to it. Nothing ruins a Christmas morning better than being too tired to enjoy it. Except maybe death, but Rose did not expect them to pay a visit this year now that they've gotten rid of all the lead that bronzed vacuum was covered in.

Sitting up in bed, she swung her feet to the side, hooking them in the cat slippers that Jasperss had supposedly gotten her two Christmases before. She knew it was really her mother's doing, but she found the notion of Jasperss using a credit card amusing enough to let it go.

Light as a feather, she walked out into the hallway and down the stairs. Sure enough, her mother was comfortably passed out on the couch, the remains of a particularly good vintage resting on the coffee table. Jasperss was curled up under the tree next to a respectable stack of gifts, each wrapped in an offensively ornate paper. Neither of them woke, so Rose was able to turn her attention to the grandfather clock.

The clock was never something she paid a great deal of attention to. It was always just there, existing without needing much maintenance. In fact, this was the first time she had examined it closely.

To the naked eye, it seemed to be just a grandfather clock, and Rose was tempted to dismiss it as such and go back to bed. But she knew what she heard, and logic dictated that the clock needed to be tuned. Grandfather clocks needed tuning right? Pianos need tuning, but they are musical instruments. Clocks aren't exactly known for their melodies.

It was then that Rose felt she was being challenged to play the grandfather clock like an instrument, and opened the glass door that protected the many gears and chimes that comprised the device.

But behind the door, there were no gears and chimes.

Instead, there was a hallway with tall green walls. A soft light emanated from where the hall turned a corner some ways away, illuminating it in a way that seemed almost festive.

Rose blinked, swinging the door back. Through the glass, it looked just like an ordinary clock. She took a step back, contemplating the implications.

 _Was this always here?_ she thought. _Where does the hallway lead?_

Before Rose could list off any more questions, the chimes began to ring again. Only it was coming from down the hallway inside the clock. She sat frozen, unsure whether or not to investigate further. The mysterious hallway aside, it was unnerving that the source of the sound wasn’t obvious. Regardless, it didn’t seem to have an effect on her mother or Jaspers, who continued to sleep soundly.

After staring in deep thought for what seemed like ages, she tentatively reached inside the clock and waved her hand. A moment later she peeked her head inside.

The hallway seemed to hit a wall where it met with the entrance to Rose’s living room, the other side also adorned with an old grandfather clock. However, this one had the same green coloring as the hallway, and almost seemed foreboding in its presence.

Already wary, this should have convinced Rose Lalonde to ignore this strange place and go back to bed, but something seemed to beckon her forward - something much too enticing to ignore. Gingerly, she moved her entire body through the opening, and made her way down the hallway.

The further she went, the more the hallway twisted and turned, almost like a maze. Each hall after the first was lined with rows of dark green doors, but all seemed to be locked.

After spending what seemed like an eternity navigating a labyrinth of hallways, she finally found a door that was unlocked. She knew it was unlocked because it sat open, always a good indicator of whether or not a room could be accessed.

Inside the room lay a study. It wasn’t too big nor too small, nor was it fancy. But something about it made it seem significant, besides being the only room that was accessible.

The room had three grandfather clocks scattered throughout. In the center, two green couches faced one another with a white coffee table in between. On the far wall away from the desk there was a solid green desk, with a small, green tree sitting upon it. The green tree was adorned with red and golden baubles that, -- instead of creating a festive atmosphere -- gave off a feeling of foreboding. Rose couldn’t place it, but it was strong enough that she couldn’t look at it for more than a few seconds without feeling nauseous.

But no, the most significant thing in this room was the person sitting at the desk.

Rose initially thought they were some kind of marionette, placed there was some kind of macabre decoration to match the tree. They had a round, white head resembling a cueball, and was dressed in a finely tailored suit that was the same shade of green as many aspects of the room itself.

The being turned, the front of their head as shiny and blank as the back, and bowed.

“I’ve been expecting you.”

“You will not feast on my delicious organs, Slenderman,” Rose hissed, entering a defensive stance.

“I do not know who this Slenderman is. No, that is a lie. I know that he is a creature from Earth mythology whose methodologies you have gotten incorrect.” He dusted off his suit and motioned towards the couches. “Would you like to sit?”

Rose observed him for a moment longer before sitting on the very edge of one of the couches.

“Come on, sit in the middle,” He insisted, as if scolding a child.

Rose didn’t move. “Who are you?”

“Well, who do you think I am?” The being said, sitting on the opposite couch.

“A cyborg perhaps? Or a product of my overly-stressed mind?”

“I’m not a cyborg. I can neither confirm nor deny the later,” The being seemed to chuckle at this. “Actually I can, because I know everything. But I’m going to choose not to.”

“What do you mean you know everything? No one can know everything.”

“But I do know everything,” He insisted. “For example: I know names. Yours is Rose Lalonde, and many refer to me as Doc Scratch.”

Rose sat in silence.

“And you’re unsettled by my existence. Most importantly, my absence of a face. How… common a concern,” Doc Scratch sighed, his voice dripping with disappointment. “But that can’t be helped. You are a different model after all.”

“The things you say are confusing.”

“Like I said, it’s because I know everything.”

Rose stared at, what she presumed was, his face. “For the moment, let’s assume what your saying is truthful-“

“It is truthful.”

Rose cleared her throat. “If you’re telling the truth, then you know how I got here. And about why I’m here.”

“Of course,” Scratch said, “But that wouldn’t be definitive proof of my omnipotence. After all, I’m the one who brought you here using the portal. Others have this ability but it had something to do with saving Halloween, and I like to think my reasoning has more substance.”

“Well then, why did you do that? What business do you have with me?”

“It’s because I wanted to speak with you. Or at least a version of you that hasn’t experienced the Armageddon.”

“Okay,” Rose blinked. “You are definitely a product of my sleep deprived mind. Mom must have gotten that cheap wine again.”

“What consequence would your mother’s shopping habits…” Doc Scratch trailed off, before regaining the same air as before. “Ah I see. In this universe… you’re drinking?”

“I’m allowed to have one glass of wine on Christmas Eve. Or at least for the past two years…” Rose eyed Doc Scratch, “If you were really omnipotent you would know that. And what do you mean ‘in this universe’? And earlier you mentioned an Armageddon.”

“I apologize,” Doc Scratch said, wringing his hands. “I’ve been so inconsiderate. A terrible host really. Of course, you know nothing about the designs of this situation nor anything about myself. It’s truly shameful.”

Rose resisted the urge to hit him.

“Let me explain,” Doc Scratch began. “I am in a unique position where I can call upon reaches of the cosmos not normally accessible to one such as yourself. In the plain of existence where I normally interact, there is a version of you. She is younger, and on the rare occasion, I have spoken with her.

“How much younger?” Rose said, crumpling her face. “Do you have designs on my prepubescent self?”

“Nothing of the sort. As I said to your other self, I have no compatible means of reproduction nor any inclination towards the type of attraction you are describing.”

“What about on this version of me?”

“Did you not hear anything I just said?”

“Yes. And you still haven’t answered my last question.”

Doc Scratch fell silent. “I have a cueball for a head. I know that you’ve read, and even written, weirder than that. But still.”

“Are you implying that I have designs on you?”

“If you do you won’t admit as much, and I know pressing the matter would be futile, so I suggest we can drop it.” Doc Scratch stood up. “We could explore your seeming acceptance of these circumstances.”

“If I asked you’d probably just continue talking in circles, much like you are now. It’s irritating.”

“That is curious. Your younger self found my ‘shtick’ amusing.”

“Well, she is a younger, alternate universe version of myself. As you quite well know.”

“This exchange will become circular as well. So I’m going to end it,” Doc Scratch declared. “Now that we’ve gotten formalities out of the way, would you like to dance?”

“Dance?” Rose asked, staring at him in confusion. Of all the things she expected him to say, that was not it. As Doc Scratch grabbed her by the hand and pulled her up, the Nutcracker Suite began playing in low tones that resembled the chimes of a clock.

He lead her in some unholy mashup of a waltz and an almost ballet-type dancing, though somehow it managed to maintain a… graceful quality that Rose couldn’t explain. It became harder to explain when Doc Scratch lifted her up in the air and then immediately dipped her, pulling her face close to his smooth cue ball head.

“I- I don’t understand,” Rose stammered, unable to make sense of this situation.

“Clearly this was an homage to this ‘Christmas’ holiday you are about to celebrate. It is a thank you of sorts for being my company tonight.”

“You expected that to impress me?”

“I expected amazement and you are, indeed amazed.”

“Well… I suppose I am. But it that really all you were going for?”

“It’s interesting. Situations like these are always more interesting when I forfeit some control of the events. Of course, it’s an illusion of a forfeit, as it is not like I can turn off omnipotence.”

“Can we stop playing games?” Rose said, standing up and dusting herself off. “I know how I’m here, more or less, but _why_ am I here? You still haven’t answered me.”

“I wanted to see it firsthand.”

“What?”

“I wanted to see firsthand what our interaction would be. Knowing something conceptually is not the same thing as experiencing it.”

“You wanted to… experience talking to me?” Rose said, unsure how to respond once again.

“It was fun, was it not?”

“I’m not sure what I would call it, to be perfectly honest,” Rose admitted.

“Yes, well, our chat here will not be the only thing you will experience tonight.”

“Gross.”

“I mean, that, while you have been here, I’ve had two of the doors in this hallway unlocked. Specifically, the two closest to where you came in. I encourage you to look inside both of them. I think they’ll hold great interest for you, though I suggest you try the one on the right first.”

Rose stared at him silently. _Was this all a game?_ She thought to herself, knowing that saying it out loud would only trap her in conversation for even longer.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Doc Scratch said, gesturing towards the door.

Rose nodded back, unable to come up with the words to endcap this bizarre encounter.

In fact, she left the room without uttering another word. She did look back once, and saw Doc Scratch sitting on one of the couches, his hands resting on his legs. His head was turned facing the opposite couch, so it was impossible to discern whether or not he was still looking at her.

And with that she left the room.

Walking down the hall, she thought about everything she learned just from that one conversation. Specifically, how much of it was true. Doc Scratch seemed like the type to fabricate information to get a reaction out of her, but for some reason her gut bought his words as truth.

 _Then do aliens actually exist? Is my alternate universe self fighting a world-ending evil? Is any of this even real?_ Rose stopped and smacked herself. _Nope, definitely real._

Doc Scratch appeared to be an alien, but it was entirely possible that he was wearing some kind of costume. Still, the appearance of a hallway inside her grandfather clock was something that couldn’t be explained away.

Those thoughts continued to plague her until she reached the last two doors in the hall. Like all the others, they were the same dark green as the hallway itself. Up ahead she could see the bend in the hallway that lead to the entrance to her home.

 _Should I just forget the doors and go home?_ She wondered, before she felt a chill run down her spine. She spun around, but nothing was there. After another minute of looking around, she realized that the door on the right was slightly ajar, and cold air was coming in through the crack.

Curious, Rose took a step forward and quickly pushed it open. What she saw next took her breath away.

It was a city, but unlike any city she had ever seen. The buildings seemed like something out of a child’s crime noir imagination, each one shaped like a differently-sized cutout of construction paper. The sidewalks were peppered with beings that somewhat resembled Doc Scratch, except each of them had faces and came in a variety of different shapes. Several of them were black, and a small handful of them were entirely different creatures altogether.

 _This is an alien world?_ Rose thought. _Am I really in an alien world?_

One of the most striking things about the visage in front of her was not the buildings – the size of which she had never seen – nor the beings – who were nothing like she ever imagined. It was the fact that almost everywhere she looked there were Christmas decorations. The building immediately across the street even had a tree strung up with lights in the window. It wasn’t like any tree Rose had ever seen, but she could tell it was a Christmas tree.

“How does an alien world have Christmas?” Rose said aloud, acknowledging an inherent world-building flaw to no one in particular.

After staring outside for a few more minutes, she realized that she was still in her pajamas and was getting progressively colder. With a half-hearted sigh, she walked back inside and, after one last look, closed the door.

Rubbing her arms close to her body, she walked across the hall, hoping for the presence of some kind of furnace.

Inside was chimney. It was attached to a wall decorated with snowflakes. The chimney itself had a festive looking fire in it, which accentuated the tree next to it. It looked identical to the one earlier, the red and gold baubles so perfectly arranged Rose almost wondered if it was the same tree.

The only other thing inside was a small, rounded table. Sitting on top was a bottle of what looked like wine with a note attached to it.

_Dear Miss Lalonde,_

_I appreciate the time we have spent together this evening. While I spoke the truth earlier about arranging this evening to speak with you, I did not fully explain why._

_The version of you I am familiar with was someone whom I enjoyed speaking to, but will no longer be able to contact. No, she’s not dead. In fact, considering the circumstances, she is quite well. But it had reached the point where the universe thought it best to end our interactions._

_However, as an omnipotent being, I knew that, through some specific actions taken on my part, I would have the opportunity to speak with someone very much like her. I apologize for any discomfort or confusion this evening might have afforded you, but I also knew that you, like your counterpart, shared an interest in the fantastical. I hope that seeing a world alien to your eyes is enough to make this evening as worthwhile for you as it was for me._

_The bottle on the table is wine. Earth wine to be specific, though from a universe unlike your own, even more different than the Rose I know. The girl who supplied it is a hopeless alcoholic and probably could do without. Regardless, I implore you to partake, as it is perfectly safe, and I know your mother would enjoy it._

_I would conclude this letter with some hopeful statement that we may meet again, but I know that not to be true. You will leave here a live a fulfilled life absent of the hardships you would have faced if fortune saw fit to place you in another universe, and for that I am glad._

_Merry Christmas,_

_Doc Scratch_

* * *

Rose didn’t remember the precise details of how she got back into bed, but she knew that she had gone through the portal and felt the overwhelming urge to sleep.

When she awoke the next morning, she had expected to explain it all away as a dream, but she knew he hadn’t. After all, she had slapped herself over there and it hurt. But even then, she had a feeling deep in her gut that everything that she thought to be true was, in fact, a true, lived experience.

The bottle of wine -- the note still attached -- sitting on the nightstand also helped.

Going downstairs, her eyes immediately rested on the grandfather clock. The glass door still lay open, but instead of a doorway all that was there was chimes and gears. Her mother and Jaspers still slept soundly where they had dropped the night before, blissfully unaware of the wonders she had experienced.

Well, for now she chose to see them as wonders. Were she to visit a therapist a few years from now her attitude would probably be different.

But for now, all she could feel was satisfied. She placed the bottle, sans the note, beneath the Christmas tree and looked at the sparkling lights and decorations that adorned it. She thought of an alien world where another version of herself – same but different – battled for the fate of her planet, or so she assumed. She thought of the mysterious being who showed her that, all things considered, her life was pretty great. She had a great mom, a great cat, and great friends that would help her build a great life.

But most of all, he taught her that, to most earnestly wish Merry Christmas to all, she really could have used that good night sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> For those who were confused by the reference above, Cardiomegaly is a medical condition where the heart is enlarged.


End file.
